


Birthday Suit

by Narcotic_Dollie



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting (But not Really), Bottom Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes IS Mr. Steal Your Girl (But not Really), Cheating, Clint is a Drama Queen, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mandatory Fun Day, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safewords, Smut, Top Bucky Barnes, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 21:41:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20071033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narcotic_Dollie/pseuds/Narcotic_Dollie
Summary: "But if you want to say yes, I wouldn't hate that either," James continued, his smile turning down right predatory. "I've kinda got a thing for defiling nice boys," he said casually, like it wasn't something scandalous. "And you look like the sort of fella that wouldn't mind a little defiling."His heart was pounding so loud he was scared James could hear it too. Clint felt heat grow in his belly and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. As if sensing weakness James leaned in, his lips brushing Clint's ear as he dealt the killing blow."I won’t tell anyone. It can be our little secret.""Fuck," Clint hissed.“That’s the idea, darlin’,” James said. Clint groaned and buried his face in his hands. What did it say about him that he found that uncomfortably sexy?----------Or the one where Clint visits New York and gets more than he bargained for.





	Birthday Suit

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing in this fandom, please read all the way to the end before you come for my tags. Thank you! ♥️♥️♥️
> 
> Also not beta read, because I don't know anyone who could do that for me.
> 
> Edited 10/28/19, because who knew my writing style would change this drastically after two months.

Clint shouldered his way through the doors and groaned when the heat of the lobby hit him. God, early March in New York was miserable. He stamped snow from his boots, eyes scanning the room until they landed on the archway that led to the hotel's bar. It looked way too nice for someone like him, but it was as good a place as any to pass the time while he warmed back up. 

"Hey." Clint waved the bartender over and plopped down on the nearest barstool. It was 8 o'clock on a Tuesday, so there was only a handful of people in the joint. "How much for a coffee?"

"That'd be seven fifty, sir."

"Damn that's steep." Clint shoved a hand into his pocket and fished out a wad of cash. It was horribly crinkled, so he tried to straighten it against the edge of the bar top. 

"Not from around here?" The bartender asked, raising an eyebrow. He watched Clint count out rumpled one dollar bills with avid interest.

"Is it that obvious?" Clint fumbled a hand back into his pocket to dig out the change.

"Yeah," the other guy laughed. "A real New Yorker wouldn't have flinched over a seven dollar cup of coffee in a Manhattan bar."

Clint's ears started to heat up, because _ of course _ he stuck out like a sore thumb. He had holes in the knees of his pants, his sweater was so threadbare it looked like a stiff breeze would blow it apart, and he was starting to think that his Carhartt jacket marked him as certifiable white trash. There was a stretch of silence where Clint thought he might die of embarrassment before finally, _ finally _he managed to free the last two quarters needed. Clint opened his mouth to order, but stopped when someone covered his hand with their own larger, calloused one.

"Charge it to my room. I need another scotch anyways."

"Of course, Mr. Barnes."

Clint glanced at the stranger before quickly shifting his attention back to the bar top because _ Jesus Christ _, was that guy pretty. He was expensive and dark and gorgeous, way too gorgeous to be talking to someone like Clint. 

“Thanks.” Clint was relieved his voice didn’t do anything embarrassing like squeak or, God forbid, crack. The stranger chuckled and fuck, even that sounded pretty.

"It's all right, I needed another drink anyways. Plus it looked like you could use the help." 

The bartender chose that moment to return with a scotch for the stranger and coffee for Clint. The other man gave his hand a squeeze and it was only then that Clint realized they were still touching. He watched, transfixed, as the stranger deliberately swept the rough pad of his thumb over the knobs of Clint's knuckles before letting go.

Clint stared at his own hand while a tremor shivered through it.

They sat in silence. 

The stranger took a sip of his drink and sighed appreciatively. 

Clint stole a swallow of his. 

He didn't fidget. Honest.

“You ever gonna look at me or are you too shy?”

Clint laughed. “Sorry. I swear, I’m not normally this weird--,” the rest of that sentence got lost because Clint finally looked at the stranger for longer than two seconds and oh, sweet baby Jesus, he was going to die.

“There you are,” the man said, voice bedroom soft. He watched Clint intently while he traced circles around the rim of his glass, his grin the very picture of the cat who caught the canary. “Was startin’ to worry that I’d offended you.

“Sorry,” Clint repeated, feeling his ears heat up again. This man was without a doubt the hottest person he’d ever met and Clint had no idea what he was doing talking to a tourist like him. He wiped a hand over his thigh before extending it. “I’m Clint."

“Hi, Clint.” The stranger's grin turned devilish when he grabbed Clint's hand to shake it. “I’m James. What brings you to New York?”

Clint didn’t answer straight away, too busy staring at how James's suit stretched across his shoulders. 

It was incredibly distracting. 

James didn’t seem to mind, though. He smiled encouragingly, gloved fingers drawing abstract designs on the inside of Clint’s wrist. 

Clint cleared his throat and pulled his hand back. “I, um--well, my brother got a job with the FBI. Figured I could come visit and sightsee all in one trip." 

James hummed and took another swig of scotch. Clint watched his adam’s apple bob and swallowed in sympathy. “So where you from, Clint?”

Clint started to answer but James cut him off. “Nah, wait, let me guess.” He made a show of giving him a once over and Clint had to resist the urge to squirm. "You've got that all American, sweet as pie look about you, so I figure you've got to be a Midwestern boy. Am I right?"

Clint gave an amused snort. "Is it that obvious?"

"I'm just that good." James winked and Clint's whole face was burning up now. "Is it Illinois?"

"Almost," Clint said. "Iowa."

"Iowa, huh?" James said, eyes mischievous. He reached out and gave Clint's bicep a squeeze, then made a pleased noise at what he found there. "Yeah, that makes sense. You're hiding some serious corn-fed muscles under your sweater, sunshine."

The unexpected praise had Clint's breath catching. "Th-thanks," he said and was immediately mortified at how stuttered the word came out. He took another sip of coffee to distract himself and prayed his face didn't catch on fire.

James, who seemed undisturbed by Clint's slow transformation into a tomato, trailed his hand down and let it rest over Clint's's forearm. "Where are you stayin' tonight?" James asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Oh, um," Clint floundered. "At a hostel in Bedford Stuyvesant," he continued, stumbling over the unfamiliar word. "Am I saying that right?"

"Most people call it Bed-Stuy." James stretched out until he caught one of Clint’s feet between his own. It made Clint's stomach do some kind of weird fluttery thing. "That's pretty far from here. Do you really want to go back out in this weather?”  
  
“Not really,” Clint admits. “But what else am I supposed to do?”

“Well,” James said, voice going rough. “You could come upstairs and let me keep you warm."

_ Huh? _

"I shouldn't," Clint said in a rush, when his mind rebooted and he realized exactly what James was proposing. Shit, hadn't he meant to say he couldn't? "Not that I don't want to. I mean, Jesus, look at you, of course I want to." Shit, he was rambling. James's smile was growing wider by the second. "You're, hah, you're real handsome, gorgeous really, and I'm sure you're going to make someone's night. Hell, maybe their whole year, but I probably shouldn't." 

Clint sucked in a deep breath. Moment of truth. "I have a boyfriend."

There, it was out in the open. Clint ducked his head and absolutely _ did not _look at James. He tried not to analyze his blooming sense of disappointment too closely.

"Clint." James gave his arm a squeeze. "Clint, look at me." 

Clint hesitated before glancing back up. "There you are," James said for the second time that night, smile soft and not the least bit threatening. "All you've got to do is say no, Clint, and I'll leave you alone. I'll even pay for a taxi to take you out to Bed-Stuy. No hard feelings, honest."

Silence yawned on between them. Clint chewed at the inside of his cheek and didn't say anything at all.

"But if you want to say yes, I wouldn't hate that either," James continued, his smile turning down right predatory. "I've kinda got a thing for defiling nice boys," he said casually, like it wasn't something scandalous. "And you look like the sort of fella that wouldn't mind a little defiling."

His heart was pounding so loud he was scared James could hear it too. Clint felt heat grow in his belly and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. As if sensing weakness James leaned in, his lips brushing Clint's ear as he dealt the killing blow.

"I won’t tell anyone. It can be our little secret."

"Fuck," Clint hissed.  
  
“That’s the idea, darlin’,” James said. Clint groaned and buried his face in his hands. What did it say about him that he found that uncomfortably sexy? Christ, he was a bad person. The literal embodiment of a walking pile of trash. 

It wasn’t right, but that didn’t stop him from giving a jerky nod.

James laughed as he pried Clint's hands away. “I’m not taking you anywhere without enthusiastic and _ verbal _consent," he said, tapping a finger against the tip of Clint’s nose. “A nod’s not gonna cut it. You’ve got to say yes or the only thing I’m giving you tonight is cab fare.”

Then he had the audacity to wink at him.

Clint wished for death. Or for the devil himself to materialize and drag him to hell personally. Whichever ended his suffering faster. Fuck, he should say no. It was the right thing to do.

“Yes,” is what he actually said. And then he added, “Please,” for good measure. 

*

Clint expected things to get heated after that, but they continued on the same as they had before. Except now James wouldn't stop touching him. Just small gestures, like fingers lingering along his arm, or a squeeze to his knee, or a guiding hand on the small of his back as he was herded to the elevator. 

By the time they were sequestered away behind closed doors Clint was so wound up he was practically vibrating.

"So," James started, pulling off his tie and draping it over the chair. He was a vision in the glow of the bedside lamp, his suit jacket still buttoned and accentuating the narrowness of his hips. Clint swallowed and suddenly wasn't sure what to do with his hands. He settled them into lap, then thought better of it and started taking off his shoes. That was pretty safe, right?

"Is there anything you don't like that I should know about?"

"Oh." Straight to the point then. Clint shifted and put his hands back in his lap, watching as James toed off his own shoes. "Erm, I'm not wild about name calling."

"Makes sense." James agreed, voice bordering on fond. He sat next to Clint on the bed and tapped a gloved finger against his bottom lip. "You're too sweet for that, aren't you?"

Clint huffed, because really, James thought he was sweet? He was currently in the middle of cheating on his longterm boyfriend with a man he’d known for less than an hour. That was hardly good boy behavior.  
  
But Clint decided not to argue, instead pressed a kiss to the finger against his lips. James's gaze went molten and Clint made a soft sound before he swiped his tongue over the blunt end James's finger.

James cleared his throat and pulled his hand away. The taste of leather was heavy on Clint's tongue. "So sunshine, sweetheart, doll, honey, those are all out then?"

"What? Oh no, I don't mind pet names," Clint clarified. "I kind of like them, actually. I just don't care for the mean ones."

"Do you have a word?"

"A what now?"

"A word that you'd say if you wanted me to stop," James said, exasperated in the most affectionate way possible.

"Oh, right." Clint worried at his lip again. "Yeah, I do. It's teacups."

"Teacups," James repeated as he helped Clint shrug out of his jacket. "That's perfect, sunshine, just say that if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, alright?" 

Clint nodded and James quirked a brow. Oh right, verbal consent. "Yeah, safeword if I'm uncomfortable. I got it, James."

"Good," James said, eyes dark with intent. He tilted his head and nudged his nose against Clint's to get him to do the same. "That's very good, Clint."

Clint closed his eyes and felt James's warm breath fan out over his lips in the second before they came together and, oh, Clint might be going to hell but this was heaven. 

James kissed slow and sweet, teeth barely raking over Clint's bottom lip before pressing his tongue in teasingly. Clint made a noise that was some kind of embarrassing mix between a groan and a whimper and fisted both hands into James's shirt.

He could feel James's chuckle rumbling underneath his fingertips. "Oh god," Clint garbled, pulling back to pepper tiny kisses across the stubble of James's jaw. "Oh god, you're going to kill me."

"Now where's the fun in that?" James teased, crowding into Clint's space until he had no choice but to flop backwards. Clint held on for dear life, dragging James down with him in an ungraceful heap in the middle of the bed. 

James huffed out a laugh, then drug his teeth over Clint's neck and bit down _ hard _. Clint squirmed both away and into the sensation, arms trembling as he clutched the other man's shirt that much tighter.

"Look at you, so expressive for me," James murmured, licking a path over the skin he'd just abused. He rucked up Clint's sweater and kept pulling until Clint finally got the hint and helped him take it off. "Look honey, you've got goosebumps."

Clint really did whimper that time, shaking his head and screwing his eyes shut. There was no way he had devolved into such a needy, desperate mess already.

"So pretty," James praised before he nipped at Clint's neck again. "You'll be even prettier once I've got you all marked up."

"Nghn," Clint said, eloquently, squirming so hard that James had to fist a hand in his hair to stop his thrashing. "Wait, wait, wait, stop. You shouldn't." Again, he had meant to say can't, really he had. "He'll see."

James didn't stop exactly, but he did opt for pressing absolutely filthy open mouthed kisses over the places he'd just been biting instead. "What's your word, Clint?" He asked between presses of lips.

"Huh?" Clint questioned, blinking up at the ceiling in confusion while he continued to squirm. "Fuck. Right, it's teacups."

"Good boy," James praised and _ fuck _if that didn't do it for him. "Did you need to use your word right now, Clint?"

Clint thought about it. Bit at his lip again. Tried to decide to be a better person. Resigned himself to the fact that he might just be a bad guy. He was going to have a lot of issues to work through once this was all over.

"No."

"Perfect. You're doing great, sunshine," James reassured, the sweet sentiment at odds with how viciously he gripped Clint's hair. James alternated between nipping and sucking bruises across his neck until Clint was a shivering mess. He was positive that it was going to look like he'd been mauled by a grizzly bear tomorrow morning but he couldn't make himself care, not as long as James kept his mouth on him.

It took longer than Clint would like to admit to realize that James had thumbed his jeans open, but when the other man slipped his hand into his underwear and _ squeezed _Clint started paying more attention. The small breathy noises that escaped him were truly pitiful, but James didn't tease, just quieted him with a kiss and tugged at Clint's hair affectionately.

James wrapped his hand around Clint's dick and gave a lazy pull that had Clint arching, pressing their fronts together, and _ was this maniac still wearing his suit!? _

He'd meant to ask about it, honest, but James went back to sucking bruises on his neck while pumping away at his cock, so all his questions understandably got lost to the ethers.

He didn't register anything else but bliss, pure euphoria for a while, until James's voice cut through the miasma of pleasure. "Lift up for me, sweetheart." Clint did his best to comply, arched his hips up and let James work his underwear and jeans the rest of the way off. 

"There you go, just like that." Clint shivered at the praise, naked and feeling vulnerable, all while James was still wearing that goddamn suit. "You're beautiful, you know that?" And if Clint hadn't been flushed before he sure as hell was now.

And honestly, Clint didn't know what to do at this point, because this was new territory for him. People never looked at Clint like he was worth something, never treated him this sweetly. It was always a means to an end with him, just a rough twist of bodies in the dark.

It hadn't ever been like this. No one had ever told Clint he was beautiful in a way that made him believe them.

James left him for a moment, but was back and settled between Clint's legs before he had a chance to protest. He tracked the way James uncapped a small bottle of lube and poured a liberal amount into his hand. Then James made deliberate eye contact as he gripped the base of Clint's cock with his other hand and sucked the rest of it down in one go.

Clint levitated. He left his body. He astral projected. He probably communed with actual angels, he didn't fucking know. He was pretty sure he lost time though, because when he came back he was a sobbing, caterwauling mess and James was lapping at his dick lazily while he pumped two fingers in and out of his twitching hole.

"Please, James, please, for God's sake you're killing me," Clint begged as he writhed against the sheets. "Just get up here and fuck me already."

"Such filthy language." James crooked his fingers and hit a spot inside Clint that made him see stars. "Do you kiss your boyfriend with that mouth?"

Clint's dick jumped in James's grip and his grin turned shark like.

"Oh my God, you can't say shit like that," Clint moaned, overheated and out of control. He twisted a hand into the sheets and used his other one to hide his face. 

"Hm," James hummed good naturedly while he added another finger. He watched raptly as it disappeared inside Clint beside the others. "What's your word again, darlin'?"

"It's t-teacups," Clint whined, jerking his hips down to chase the fingers when they pulled back out.

"Did you need to say that, Clint?" James asked, voice practically subvocal.

He should stop. It wasn't too late to turn back. He should absolutely say teacups. It's what any decent human being would do in his situation, really.

What he said instead was, "Don't stop."

"That's my guy," James growled and then smacked Clint's ass so hard it hurt, but _ fuck that was hot _.

James pulled his fingers free and Clint made a disappointed sound, hating how empty he felt_ . _He hooked a leg around the other man's hip to keep him from going anywhere but James hushed him, one hand petting over his hip while the other slicked up his cock.

Then he was caging Clint back in again, hitching the blond's other leg up over his shoulder while he pressed a kiss into Clint's hair and surged in all at once.

This was it. This was where he died, he was sure of it. Clint made his peace with it, decided he'd had a good run. It was a pretty good way to go, all things considered.

"You look so pretty stretched out under me," James panted, voice gravely as he rolled his hips in a relentless, unforgiving pattern. "Your boyfriend's a lucky guy, huh? I bet he can't wait to get home everyday with a sweet thing like you waiting in his bed."

James pulled almost all the way out before snapping back in, gave Clint's nipple a vicious pinch. Clint made a sound like he'd been gutted and clutched the sheets so hard his knuckles bleached. "But you're not in his bed right now, are you, sweetheart?" James whispered, hot against Clint's ear. "Do you know why?"

Clint shook his head and James slammed home with a grunt, nailing the spot that had Clint howling. "You're not in his bed," James growled, gripping Clint's hips hard enough to leave bruises. "Because tonight you're all mine."

Clint dug his nails into James's back and cried out, came all over his fancy suit and his ears were ringing and his eyes were rolling back and--

  


Everything whited out for a little while.

  


When he came back to himself, James was still fucking into him in a way that had Clint making stuttered_ , "ah, ah, ah," _sounds after every thrust. He squirmed and knew that he probably looked wild, like an animal caught in a trap, but James wouldn't stop, wouldn't let Clint go anywhere. 

He threaded his fingers through Clint's and kept chasing his own pleasure, pace unrelenting as he tucked his face against Clint's neck and mouthed sweet nothings. Wallpapered saccharine words against his skin like, _ "You're beautiful, Clint," _ and, _ "Just let me take care of you," _ and most heartbreakingly of all, _ "I love you." _

It was too much. Clint was distantly aware that he was wailing, felt the tears as they tracked down his face, but he was also powerless to do anything about it. He felt his whole body seize up and he couldn't stand it a second longer, had to say mercy, had to make everything stop, so he threw his threw his head back and cried,

_ "Bucky--!!" _

Bucky came almost instantly, made a sound like he'd been gut shot before going completely boneless. It might have been comical if Clint wasn't so completely and thoroughly fucked out of his mind. He sighed and wrapped his arms around Bucky, trailing his hands over the lux material of his suit jacket.

"It was a nice suit," Clint mumbled, his tone thick and sated. He turned his head to press an idle kiss against Bucky's cheek. "It's completely ruined now, but it was a nice suit.”

Bucky snorted. "Pepper got it for that PR thing me and Steve have tomorrow."

That startled a laugh out of Clint. "You didn't!" Bucky pulled back enough for Clint to see his cheeky grin. "You're a deadman, Bucky Barnes. What're you gonna wear tomorrow then?"

Bucky's grin stretched wider until one of his dimples peeked out. "Tac vest."

Clint huffed out another giggle. "Whatever. It's your funeral, I guess you can dress however you want to."

Bucky hummed. "You know, you gave the game away there at the end, Agent Barton."

Clint blinked. "Yeah, okay, but in my defense I don't usually have to maintain my cover while I'm getting dicked down."

"Excuses, excuses," Bucky teased, flicking Clint's ear. "Thanks, doll. Best birthday ever."

"Glad my super secret spy skills could be of service," Clint said, obviously pleased with himself.

"And you didn't mind me being in control?"

Clint shifted. He knew what Bucky was actually asking was whether or not Clint liked being the one on the receiving end of things, since it was normally the other way around. There were a myriad of reasons for it, almost all of them having to do with protecting himself, but Clint didn't want to delve into that right now.

It was different with Bucky.

"It wasn't so bad." Clint admitted as he tugged at a long strand of Bucky's hair. "It was great, actually."

"Good," Bucky smiled, bright as sunshine. "That's perfect, sweetheart."

**Author's Note:**

> Y'ALL CAN'T TELL ME THAT BUCKY DOESN'T USE CLINT'S SPY SKILLS FOR SUPER KINKY ROLEPLAY. 😝
> 
> You can cache me ousside at narcydoll.tumblr.com!


End file.
